The Nightmare Oath
by ftninja
Summary: Loki finally gets the dominion he has been seeking. Before Odin allows his ascension, Loki must be oath-bound to a noblewoman whose one condition forbids him to lie to her. The manner of their oath will perhaps drive them both mad...or will Loki finally understand his father's machinations and come to the salvation Odin always wished for his wayward son?
1. Return of the Prodigal

Set after the events of The Dark World. I'm going more with what I know of mythology (and taking creative liberties) and mixing it with movie-verse (and taking even more liberties). I never read the comics, but from what I hear our little heroine wasn't exactly captivating in that universe, and shall draw minimally from that canon. I have a vision. And I'm going to let you see it.

I

_Privity (noun) - private or secret knowledge_

A solitary figure ghosted through the halls of Odin's palace, sent on an errand of watchfulness. Odin-King's spirit had been troubled by the news of his son Loki's death when the guard had reported it. That Thor had defeated Malekith and returned to Asgard did not draw him out of the grief he bore for his late queen, nor draw him out of the healing room to go to his victorious heir, was troubling to the servant who attended the Allfather in his mourning. And so the servant had been instructed to go to the throne room in secret.

It was well the servant did as directed and moved with discretion. The scene that played out upon arrival would have confused any other. Thor spoke to his father who seemed to quietly accept his renouncement of the throne in favor of the mortal woman he left behind on Midgard. Thor also did not seem to think it out of character of his father to simply send him on his way back to the realm he had just defended. The prince of thunder departed, and there were moments of heavy silence in the throne room.

"Show yourself to me," the supposed Allfather ordered, his eyes searching the shadows for one who he knew was there. The servant obeyed immediately, dropping to the floor in obeisance at the foot of the throne.

"Sigyn," the old man spoke. "It is not in your nature to hide in darkness. Why are you here?"

"I am here at your command, Allfather," the woman responded, her eyes lowered to the floor. She knew this was not Odin-King. The essence of magic and a presence she had not been near to in quite some time permeated the throne room. It was not the essence of the old magic of Odin. "I do not presume to question your designs, my king, but I wonder why you sent me from your side in the healing rooms, and how you managed to get here before me, given your state when I left you."

Sigyn raised her eyes just enough to see a sudden twitch, a flash of panic wash over the king's face. The glamour was cracked, but its bearer would not call it away yet. Stubborn. Just like he always had been. Sigyn rose, her eyes downcast in continued reverence.

"Did you think that I would not know you for who you are?" she asked. "I can perceive you, my lord, as I always have."

The glamour dissipated and Sigyn raised her eyes to meet a hardened emerald glare. "I will kill you," he seethed, almost to himself. "You, the only one my spell cannot deceive, would ruin everything."

"You will not kill me," she replied. "The Allfather, along with the healers under Eir and the rest of Asgard would notice and search for you. You would not be able to hide very long."

Loki knew he had been caught. Sigyn had always been the servant in his mother's court who could pick him out of all his illusions, always knew it was him when he posed as someone else. It infuriated him that she could, but also that he couldn't ever figure out how so that he could adjust his method.

"You have sent away Odin's heir. How do you propose to continue sitting upon that throne when you are presumed dead and the Allfather is not so deep in his grief yet not to return to it?"

Damn. Loki hadn't calculated on that. The first chance he had upon his return, he had taken. He had thought the king's absence from the throne room meant another Odin-sleep. Blinking he looked to Sigyn. "You said he is in the healing rooms. He is well?"

"He grieves for his late queen still. The news of Prince Loki's death at the hands of the Dark Elves weighs heavily on his heart, enough that he has not yet announced it to the kingdom," she replied.

There was a bitter pause in which a sneer visibly plastered itself onto his face. "He would never mourn my passing."

"When have you ever known a lie to pass my lips?" Sigyn asked quietly. Silence. "Come with me to him. He is weary."

"I saw him when I reported my own death in the guise of that soldier," Loki snapped, his green eyes flashing at the woman before him. His ire was rising. "His face never fell, his eye never saddened!"

"You lie to yourself if you think your father does not love you. Perhaps he perceived you then, as I do-"

"That old fool knows nothing of magic."

Sigyn stopped, her lips becoming thin. She had changed since last he knew her, the girl servant to his mother. Her stature and the way she carried herself even as she stood before him was no longer that of the young immortal who knew the truth and immediately spoke it to any who would hear. No, she knew something, but had learned discernment, the art of speaking what she perceived at the most beneficial moment.

"Come with me," she said. "I think the Allfather would see you."

It had been with great reluctance that he followed his father's servant to the healing chambers within the palace. She had taken great care to take him through hallways that were less traveled by nobles and servants. When they came to the door of his chamber, Sigyn held a finger to her lips. The king's state required quiet and Loki understood that there was something different this time. There was concern in Sigyn's eyes that a healer should not have of a healthy, if older, man.

Opening the door, Sigyn brought Loki to the inner room where Odin lay propped in a bed, his eyes closed. As soon as the younger prince of Asgard crossed the threshold of the room, Odin opened his eyes, erasing any doubt that he was in his slumber.

"Thank you, Sigyn," Odin nodded at the servant quietly. "I am glad you and I share the same premonitions."

"A premonition I learned from one you loved greatly, my lord king," Sigyn replied, still deep in her curtsey. "It was an honor to serve Queen Frigga, as it is an honor to now serve you."

Loki looked on with some sense of shock. The old man looked positively haggard. The war between the Dark Elves and Asgard, the rebellion of his sons in taking the mortal Jane from the realm, the loss of his queen and supposedly his son...it was finally catching up to Odin and the strain of rule was not kind to him. A part of Loki's mind sneered, demeaning the ill king for his old age. The other parts berated him for disrespect, and another was full of dread. It was becoming the end.

Sigyn stood near to Odin at the headboard, near a table of salves, a decanter of water and incense. She appropriately shrank near the wall, available if the king needed treatment, and yet out of the way. With but a look, Odin called his prodigal son to his side.

"You live," the king said simply.

"Disappointed?" Loki lashed out, the word barely passing his lips as he immediately regretted them. Even as bitterness ate at his heart, he knew this was not the time or place for such things.

"My disappointment in you stems from my own selfishness. You are not all at fault for your actions, though your own decisions will dictate the consequences."

Loki's lips pressed into a fine line.

"Sigyn," Odin only barely turned his head and she was on her knees nearby. "It is well I sent you to the throne room. Tell me, what did you see?"

Loki watched Odin as the tale was recounted rather faithfully. The King's expression was unreadable, even as the memory ended and his deception made known.

"So, Thor willingly renounced his birthright?" Odin asked.

"Yes, my lord. I perceive his heart unwilling to be apart from this woman, even thinking his brother lost and your line of rule broken," Sigyn replied.

"Who else knows of Loki's return to Asgard?"

"None, my lord. You commanded secrecy in going, and I upheld the order in my return."

"Well done, Sigyn," Odin softly praised, his hand atop her head in a motion for her to rise. "We have yet time to mend and prepare."

"What do you mean?" Loki frowned. Ill at ease, he did not like the thought of his brother's return, nor Thor's anger upon learning what he had done.

"Ever have you sought the throne, Loki," Odin replied. "You have maneuvered yourself into a dangerous position. Asgard does not trust you, nor do you have love of the people. And, you have given me little choice but to allow your ascension."

"A sudden change of heart?" Loki sneered. "You seem to have had no compunctions from forbidding it before."

"Thor had been bound to duty before and accepted it. That he gave it up, even as you deceived him, tells me he never truly wanted it. It falls to you now, though your manner of taking it bodes ill for your future."

"Is that a threat?"

"I have lost you twice before because I was heavy handed in my dealings with you. I would not now lose you a third time. No, Loki. The consequences of your desires will not be passed through me."

There was a heavy silence. Loki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, impatient for what he supposed would be his sentencing by the Allfather.

"You will go back to your chambers, and prepare for the courts. In the coming days, let all of Asgard know that you live, and let the truth of Thor's heart be made known." Odin breathed deep as of a man wearied by long deliberations. "For now, I will rest. A great many things must be done. I will see them through and have you established before I yet succumb to sleep."


	2. The Nightmare Oath

II

In the days that passed after Odin spoke to his son in secret, the courts of Asgard stirred with discontent. Loki was not the son favored by the realm, and whispers that he had forced his father's hand in choosing him as next in line flew on the air. Rumors of Thor's death were added, and speculation as to the king's state of mind also arose.

Loki's presence in the palace, and Odin's absence from the throne room did little to ease unrest. Moods were dark until the Allfather again appeared in his dress of state, bearing the spear Gungnir, his sombre face dictating silence. Loki was summoned to court and with all the pomp of one who was clearly ignoring the rumors and blithely smiling in the face of judgment, he appeared.

"Loki Odinson," he began, his deep voice filling the golden hall. "Against my wishes, you bore the Midgard woman away in secret with your brother Thor. You went to confront the enemy and gave him the power he sought."

"I did so in accordance with Thor's wishes, Allfather," Loki replied in his defense. "And might I add, Thor was victorious in his battle against Malekith on Midgard."

"You also went with vengeance in your heart," Odin continued. Loki stilled. No one knew his mind...perhaps his father was not the fool he took him for. Or perhaps someone had seen them as they escaped Asgard. Surely, with the many faces he chose to wear, no one could have guessed his intent.

"You went to Svartalfheim and did battle with the beast who slew your mother, Queen Frigga. Your brother sang praises of your cunning and valor."

The court's harried whisperings fell deathly silent. Their shock was palpable. No one guessed the true nature of the relationship between the queen and her son, or that his grief had driven him to such an end. Thor's love however would cover a multitude of his sins and so it came as no surprise that he would seek favor for his brother.

"Thor has abdicated the throne of Asgard," Odin spoke again. The whispering of court began anew. "The woman of his heart does not belong here, and yet because he loves her, he will not leave her side. I give him my blessing, and am left to choose another heir for the well being of my people, the Aesir."

Loki frowned. The grand speeches, his lofty purposes. No one would ever tell Odin what the courts would so loudly shout in the streets to each other. _Do not give us Loki! Never Loki!_

"To preserve the future of this realm I must pass my throne. Let it be known that Loki Odinson shall be my heir, and when the time comes will rule Asgard."

Loki felt Odin's gaze upon him. It was even, and heavy, as if to say he'd better not change his mind as Thor did. Loki smirked. He had always been focused, had always a singular purpose. Anyone who had thought he'd ever not pursued the throne was an outright fool. As the attending court fell apart into its own gossip, Odin raised Gungnir and brought it to the floor with a sharp crack that echoed through the hall, bringing silence again.

"There shall be no contest of my will," Odin glared. "My son's birthright shall not be challenged, nor his right to rule questioned."

With that, the assembly was dismissed. Odin departed the hall, and Loki was left to his own devices with which to fend off the wolves of court. The first to descend upon him were Thor's entourage - Sif, and the Warriors Three. Lady Sif seemed to speak for all of them as she stomped closer, coming eye to eye with the traitorous brother.

"How have you managed this?" Sif spat. "Thor would not have given up his birthright so easily. You lied to both of them."

"Nice to see you, Sif," Loki smiled thinly, ignoring the warning of wrath in her eyes. Volstagg reached for Loki's arm.

"What have you done to Thor?" he accused, demanding an answer as Loki tore his arm out of the grip.

"I let him pursue his heart," Loki sneered. Even against his warning of the vast differences between their kind, Thor still chased a woman in love. Let him, her life would be brief enough. Hogun and Fandral pressed closer, their brows knit together in anger and misunderstanding.

"My lord," a familiar voice spoke before they could accuse him more. Loki turned to see Sigyn nearby. It was a shock to see her not in her robes as a healer but in a gown of blue that softly draped her form. Her honey blonde hair was swept back into a braid that was wound tightly at the nape of her neck, pinned by combs.

Someone to interrupt the constant badgering of the Three? He'll take it. Loki took Sigyn's hand in his and gave a swift kiss to her knuckles, a shallow smile upon his lips. "Lady Sigyn, a pleasure to see you."

Her bored expression told him she didn't care for the show of flattery. "Allfather has asked for you. I am sent to bring you to him," she replied, ignoring the glares radiating off Sif and her companions.

"Ever faithful, Sigyn," Loki purred, his smile false as he turned it toward Sif's murderous gaze. As they walked away from the golden hall, the farce of joviality dropped and Sigyn nearly tore her hand from his grip, changing her pace so they did not walk so closely together.

"Do not think that I am able to always shield you so conveniently," she stated, her gaze ever forward and her tone informative and even. Loki gave her a sidelong glance, truly seeing her for the first time in many years. Perception was a gift he valued. Sigyn shared his talent, as did a few others, but none so keenly as she.

"But I'll always need a skirt to hide behind," he scoffed, his tone demeaning. Sigyn stopped suddenly and whirled toward him.

"I have been maneuvered to serve the only woman whom you clung to, once upon a time," she hissed. Loki's smile was gone. The wound she struck out at was far too fresh for him, and she tread upon dangerous ground.

"By her will I served her, and my servitude passed to the King. I will do as directed. I will carry out my liege's orders, though you deserve to be torn apart by the people."

"You know nothing of what I deserve," Loki snarled.

"You know nothing of Her Grace's tireless persistence for you. For months you were in that cell; every day she procured comforts for you, every day she visited you. Every night she returned to her chambers, her heart rent apart for the son she so desperately loved and wanted to help. You reviled her at every turn. But still she loved you. Do not make light of her endless treaties to the Allfather for your release, the shortening of your incarceration. You didn't have to watch her weep when the doors were closed and the courtiers could not whisper."

Sigyn's rebuke was harsh but she did not raise her voice to him. The walls of Odin's palace had ears, and it was for his sake that she kept her voice to a lowered pitch. Loki was unguarded enough from her outburst to allow true remorse to settle into his features. No one spoke to him in such a way, outside the royal family. He suddenly felt like a little boy with Frigga scolding him again. Frigga...

"She wept," he whispered, trying not to let his voice crack at the memory of his beautiful mother.

"Bitterly," Sigyn's voice cracked for him. Looking up at her, Loki realized she mourned deeply for Frigga, perhaps as much as he did. Sigyn was never very good at hiding her emotions, even when she didn't intend to be so readable. Her blue eyes blinked back tears and she took a breath to steady her trembling.

"His manner is entirely different than my lady Frigga's, but Odin-King would ensure your future," Sigyn said, continuing on her way down the hall. "She must be watching, from the halls of Valhalla, or he is reminded of something they spoke of. What I perceive of the king is not his usual course."

"You presume to know the king's mind?" Loki rebuffed, hardly believing that she would be privy to Odin's plans. Odin-King, who took counsel from no one...or so he thought.

"My service to the queen has been passed to the king so quickly," Sigyn replied after some thought. "But it seems to me that he is not proceeding as he would in days past."

With that, she knocked on the tall oaken door they finally stopped at. Odin's voice resonated from within for her to enter and Sigyn complied, curtsying deeply before the king who sat behind his desk. His gaze drifted behind the servant to greet his son.

"Sit, my son," Odin commanded. "Sigyn, close the door. I would have you remain."

Sigyn's brow furrowed slightly as she and Loki passed each other to do as each was bid. Odin's office was clean, ornate and stately, but it was not a place one wished to be. With the door closed, Sigyn stood against it as if she were its guard as Loki sat on one of the plush chairs before his father, sighing.

"You have seen for yourself the turmoil that would plague your reign," Odin stated. Loki did not respond. It was a fact, and it was now plain to nearly everyone the task set before him that he chose.

"Did you mean to rule the Aesir in the same manner as you would have the Midgardians? As diminished as their line is, they still had strength to resist you. The Aesir's line has not been diluted so much. You cannot think that their resistance to you would not be mightier."

Might. Loki suppressed a shudder, having a memory of the angry green giant that had taken hold of him in New York. There had been no escaping that grasp, and god he may have called himself, the pain that saturated his body as he lay there still reminded him that he only lived longer than the people of that realm. Silence stretched thick like a fog between them.

"Would you have me beg and plead for their favor? Even if I worked for their benefit, they would still think my motives evil. I cannot change who I am or what I've done. I am used to their disparaging remarks, their hateful whispers, and I am better prepared for their malice because of it."

"I would not tolerate their malcontent against their future king, and nor should you. But do not think that I have earned allegiance because I forced them to. I had to earn it. I know you believe my methods harsh and unforgiving, but there were times when they had to be. I have seen lifetimes of heartless wars and fragile peace. I also have sons who are impatient and want things their own way, unseeing of the consequences of their youthful vigor." Odin's gaze upon Loki was calculating, but the prince perceived that in his own way, the king was trying to be loving in his guidance.

"What shall I do then, Odin-King?" Loki's tone bordered on sarcasm. "Shall I take counsel of old men who would see me dead?"

Odin leaned back in his chair. Indeed he had only truly taken counsel of one. Frigga alone had the power to bend his ear, to convince him to divert his course. His advisers knew, and all attempted to hold sway, but Frigga was clever and held his heart, even through the long years. Loki would greatly need assistance, and from one who had never learned duplicity or deceit. He blinked long and slow, being reminded of his wife when she had been frustrated with one of her students. He looked to Sigyn.

"What do you think, Sigyn?"

The servant of the king lifted her head, eyes wide and completely thrown off her center. "I...would not presume to advise..."

"You do not presume," Odin interrupted. "I ask it."

Loki had a perfect seat to fully view both Odin-King and Sigyn. The king had the same measuring gaze that had been on his son, and Sigyn took a moment to compose herself before answering. Loki almost smirked to see the flutter of her pulse still twitching at her throat even as it slowed.

"I...believe it would be wise if His Highness surrounded himself with people beneficial to him. I perceive as many do, that he does not have friends. Those he had before the war are now lost to him. But perhaps there are some who could be called on to give their aid to him willingly."

"You are known for your cognition, child. How many are known to you who would willingly befriend my son, truly?" Odin asked.

The reality of his situation crashed against Loki mercilessly when Sigyn's shoulders slumped further and further as she recounted in her mind the dwindling list of his allies. How could he rule if he forcibly could not make allies? Love for a monarch did not come as easily as fear did, and his mastery of magic would quicken his death. It was his own fault. His tricks and his bitter heart had tied his own hands when it came to his ambition.

"Not many, my lord,' Sigyn replied sadly. It was unfortunate, but she could not think of a single person who would willingly let the Lord of Lies sway them to his side in allegiance. Trickery or blackmail would have to be involved and that wouldn't exactly cast him in a better light.

"Not many," Odin admitted. A thought occurred to him. "Would you?"

"My lord?" Sigyn's pulse began to quicken again.

"Would you aid my son as King of Asgard?"

Loki leaned back in his chair and watched the blood drain from her face. He knew no one trusted him or could stand him in the slightest, but that didn't mean the sting of rejection ever went away. Sigyn appeared to choose her words carefully.

"Forgive me my lord, but it would depend greatly upon the manner of the aid required of me," she answered.

"You were once hailed upon Midgard as the goddess of your word. You are still regarded for your loyalty and keen intuition of others among the Aesir."

"What would you have me do, my king?" she asked apprehensively.

"I would have you pledge your loyalty to my son. The Aesir will see you and know of your nature. Perhaps through you they can be lead to follow my son's leadership," Odin explained.

Sigyn relaxed. So it was merely the transferring of her servitude from one in the royal family to another. Before she could answer, Odin looked to his son.

"The pledge will require both of you to take an oath of the oldest in the universe. It will be upheld by the oldest of magic, and the breaking of this oath will result in death."

"Really, must you be so melodramatic?" Loki snorted. The look Odin gave him was one of warning. It was for his own protection that the oath would have to be taken, and to ensure that Loki could not cheat or otherwise betray Sigyn's faithfulness for his own gain, he had to trust that his son could not be trusted.

"The soul oath," Sigyn breathed quietly. Odin and Loki broke their gaze to turn toward her, Odin with pride that she knew of it and Loki with a scoff on his lips that she believed in it.

"It is old magic, is it not?" She asked. Odin nodded.

"Not even the Vanir made this spell. The casting of it requires a great will and the full capacity of magic force from both who bind themselves with it."

"You command me to take this oath, Allfather?"

"I do not command," Odin softened as he looked upon Sigyn's agitation. "I ask it of you, for the sake of my son."

"This oath was taken by the Vanir many times in ages past, usually between betrothed as the ultimate act of loyalty," Sigyn said. Odin looked at her evenly, and she perceived the answer to her unasked question. "There are others perhaps better suited, Allfather."

Loki laughed. "Indeed, Odin-King, if you wanted such an arrangement perhaps we could make allegiance with Vanaheim. It is needless to punish her if it is intended to inflict me instead."

"You forget my heritage and mistake my meaning, Your Highness," Sigyn said quickly. "I know of the spell because it was in my history lessons at home. You sense my resistance because it will result in what will seem as a romantic bond. You know my nature, Your Grace. Deception is not a part of me, and I cannot imagine that any would believe Lord Loki would choose me in that manner."

"Think on it, Sigyn," Odin replied after a measure of thought to her words. "Should you do as I ask without taking the oath, Loki would still be open to attack, and no amount of your discretion would be able to save him, especially should he choose a woman who wanted his ruin and his throne."

"I am inadequate to the task you set before me, my king," Sigyn punctuated with finality. "Nor am I worthy to be anyone's queen.'

"Do not demean yourself, child," Odin said. "Your service to me came highly praised, and you were considered worthy by her. You are simply unused to the treachery of politics in court and you have no manner in which to defend yourself. Therein lies my son's power. His life depends upon your safety as much as yours upon his. It is a dangerous oath that would hold both of you to your word. I do not ask this lightly of you."

Sigyn was extremely humbled. Even now Frigga was advancing her, as she tried and could not so many years ago. When Sigyn took to her studies of healing magic and medicines, Frigga had given up teaching her the arts that her son had adapted to so quickly. Knowing that the late queen still held her in high regard despite her failings and spoke to the king of her settled her spirit. The undertaking would be difficult – nay near disastrous. Something pulled at her spirit, and she could not fail the queen's memory, not now.

"I will agree, if His Highness wishes it," she answered.

"Well, it's not as if I have a choice, now do I?" Loki responded. Truly, he could not refuse and was resigned to ever be maneuvered by the will of Odin.

"Tonight then, we will meet in the throne room," the king said. "I would witness your oath-taking."

* * *

Loki paced at the foot of the stair leading to the throne where his father sat. Sigyn was late in coming, and Loki briefly entertained the thought she wouldn't ever appear. Bitterly he snorted to himself. No, once Sigyn agreed to something, she carried out her word to completion. How ironic that he could be bound to someone everyone trusted.

He idly looked to Odin, whose eyes were closed. The dark-haired prince wondered how much longer he had until his father truly slept. It seemed the snatches he took to resting were becoming more frequent. Loki's mouth drew into a line. What did it matter, the old fool never loved him. Even now, Loki knew his father couldn't trust him.

The quiet opening of a side door and the sound of slippers against the floor signaled Sigyn's arrival. Odin opened his eyes as Loki turned his head toward her. The prince's eyes radiated his displeasure.

"Took you long enough," he needled. "Is this how it shall always be? That my everlasting punishment is to wait for you?"

"Enough, Loki," Odin ordered as he rose from his throne, carrying Gungnir down the stairs to stand before his son and servant. "You will have a lifetime to make misery for each other if you choose, can it not wait until I am deaf to the Nine Realms?"

Loki turned from glaring daggers at Sigyn since she was not withering under his gaze, and folded his arms across his chest with a joyfully malicious smile on his lips. "Well, if you're going to miss the litter of brats we're sure have."

Sigyn sighed in irritation. "Must you be impossible? This is meant to be for your benefit. Why can't you at least bear it?"

"Because I must be impossible," he replied in mock glee.

Gungnir pounded the floor, reminding them both of their purpose. Odin looked at them, the hard gleam in his good eye effectively silencing the two. "Each of you are allowed one condition for the oath taking. Whatever condition you choose, remember that you shall be irrevocably tied to the other. Loki, on what condition would you bind yourself to Sigyn?"

Loki seemed to pause, and Sigyn set her will immediately to his intent. His green eyes glinted in what light there was in the throne room, and she could not but feel as if she were at the wrong end of this bargain. With this extreme disadvantage of her nature on her side, and his nature on his, the irony of the situation was not lost on her. Try as she might, she did not perceive dissimulation on his part.

"Your purpose is to aid my rule. You will do what I cannot, and be my eyes where I cannot see," he finally answered. Even as he spoke, he wondered if she could do it. He had taken after Frigga in his proficiency in the arts of sorcery. Was there truly anything he could not do, anything he could not see?

Slowly, Sigyn nodded her agreement. Odin's knowing gaze pierced through the veil of his son's mind. Yes, Loki was uncertain of his future and only further cemented that Sigyn would be instrumental to him. "And you will not lie to me," she replied evenly.

The snarl upon his lips was there before he could take hold of it and squash it back down into himself. _She would,_ he thought bitterly. _She __**would**__ force me to go against my nature. I could have forced the same...I wish..._

Before the bile of his bitterness could come to his lips, he nodded, the frown still upon his countenance. From the corner of his gaze, he could see the Allfather with a proud smile. Yes, Odin had chosen well, the woman to bind him to.

"These shall be your terms of binding. Sigyn, your failure to see a danger not perceived by Loki will be your doom. And Loki, your serpent's tongue will be stilled forever to Sigyn, that she may better perceive the truth." Odin again pounded Gungnir to the floor and a heaviness pervaded the throne room.

Loki's senses heightened and he felt a force. It was old, and powerful. He had not felt such power, not from the Casket of the Jotun, or the glory of the Tesseract, or even the Aether of the Dark Elves. It was a power older than the artifacts of the realms themselves. It slipped around him, covered him, and he felt slightly daunted at its fierce voracity. And then he felt it pass him by, seeing out the one whose power was diminutive in comparison. Unbidden, alarm rang at his mind. The power sought out Sigyn first and he knew she was in its grasp when she suddenly started, jerky motions drawing her hand to her chest as her breath grew more ragged.

Her cheeks flushed, her skin grew hot. The air was suddenly very close and still. Why was it so hard for her to breathe? All at once she felt a great weight on her forehead, tilting it backward, her balance askew and drawing her feet from under her. She was lifted, being borne upon something she could not see. But she could tell this power was far greater than anything she had ever read or imagined. Why would anyone willingly seek this out, even if it would bind them to the one they loved most? Even in love...did love make fearlessness? Her mind raced in panic as she felt the tendrils of the force that held her ease itself into every opening of her being, and it pried her mouth open.

Loki's eyes widened as Sigyn levitated and he could almost see the invisible fingers that parted her lips and reached in. She did not struggle against it but her fear was unmasked, unadulterated. He looked to Odin. If he did nothing, Sigyn would die during the binding. He had no doubts this raw power, whatever it was, would snap her like a twig if she so much as bent a thought against it.

"Father," he began, but he was silenced with a single look. Would Odin-King sacrifice this woman? Her propensity toward the more powerful forms of magic were lesser, and that is why her studies under Frigga ceased.

"Your mother tutored you both," Odin answered. "And they shared Vanir blood. You doubt Sigyn because she could not cast illusions so easily as you. There is strength of will in her, and you will need that of her ere the end."

It pulled at him now, more powerful in its grip. His lungs greedily sucked in air at his surprise and Loki felt a heavy tug at his entire frame. Then he realized his boots were sliding across the floor, his body flailing toward Sigyn. It took a hold of his mind, the fingers in his consciousness more tight than the Chitari messenger he communed with during his madness with the Tesseract upon Midgard. His eyes rolled back in his head when he suddenly felt forcibly pulled out of his body through his chest and into a space he could not name.

It seemed like he was caught in a hurricane. The noise was white, nameless, indiscernible and deafening. What felt like a horrible wind raked across his skin and prickled against his being. Everything was dark and yet not. Where was he? He looked down and saw he was no longer in his physical form. He felt...free from it. But the seeming wind in this place blew him about terribly and he realized that he was no longer anchored to a manifestation of himself within the Nine Realms. He could not put a finger on what was happening or where he was, but he had the good sense to be afraid and wish for his physical form.

Agonized cries, as one would hear over the violent raging of a thunderstorm echoed to his ears. He searched through a landscape torn and unstable until he saw a light, a consciousness. Sigyn. In pain, her presence pulsed, and a flashing vision of her physical form writhing against an unyielding chain oscillated and disappeared. He now understood what was happening. Her soul had been forcibly taken from her physical form to undergo the oath, as his had been. It seemed his capacity and mastery of magic was shielding him from the pain. Another emotion unbidden arose. Anxiety for her well being.

The bind finally appeared, whipping to and fro in the fickle realm of the unknown. The chain, the incantation fetter that would forever connect Loki and Sigyn together in the unbreakable, irreversible oath. Dark realization washed over him. The proximity of their connection, the manner of their binding. Odin had known of this spell – from whom, he could not guess – and had known there would be no escape for his son. The crushing intimacy, whether he wanted it or not, meant that here would be one he could not hide from. Her essence reached out to him, her cognizance stumbling blindly in this realm. In shock he forcefully pushed away, rejecting the brush of her soul from his. Again her pained weeping rang through his ears. _Help. Help me!_

Loki treasured his secret thoughts and it was as if she were reaching to take them from him. Too late, did he turn to run. The chain whipped toward him like an adder about to strike and with despair ripping through his very being, it caught him, pulling him back toward the woman that cried out to him. A burst of light flashed behind his eyes and he too screamed. Unrivaled rage, frustration and fear. What will happen to him now?

Loki suddenly awoke with a start as if from a nightmare to find himself sprawled on the floor. Blinking owlishly, he raised his head and saw he was indeed in the throne room still. Sitting up slowly, he cautiously stretched to search his body for pain and looked about him. Odin sat upon his throne, in light slumber. The prince could only feel his own spirit unsettled, and satisfied he sustained no injuries, he turned his head. Her back to him, Sigyn lay prone. The force that had taken the essence from her body had not been kind to her. Her hair was torn from its combs, and lay in disarray across her back. He took a breath and then realized with horror that he could barely perceive her.

Loki hurried over and turned her so that he could see her face. He touched her forehead. It was cold. Fear seized at his mind and he quickly gathered her up in his arms, fairly running from the golden hall to the houses of healing. What have they done?

* * *

This and the first chapter took me all of my two days off to write. I am exhausted, but I hope you are pleased. Sorry it was so long. I wanted the title to be revealed so badly, and my dedication to the one who inspired me to write what I promise will be a monster of a fiction and perhaps the sweetest love story you may yet read.


	3. Entropy

This is the chapter where it starts to get weird, deep and quite frankly disturbing. I've marked it accordingly as an M rated fic, and I'm not going into detail about the uncomfortable stuff, but you need to be prepared in case you don't have a heart for such things. This story is a character study, pretty much, very spiritual in nature, but above all, it's a dramatic romance. I'll just...get to the feel goods later... Also, I think I've finally hit upon a face for Sigyn, after looking through a few celebrity photos. Perhaps describing her just got that much easier.

* * *

III

Sigyn's condition did not change after Loki took her to Eir's care. The house of her spirit remained cold and lifeless, and the head healer's ministrations to that form were of no avail. For two days and nights, Sigyn partook of sleep as of the dead. At last, Eir confided her concern to the prince who often came to the healing houses to inquire of the progress.

"I can feel that she is alive, my lord," Eir answered, never asking how Loki somehow found Sigyn's unconscious body on the floor of the throne room. "I can sense death – this is wholly different. But her spirit is not within. It's as if she has gone from her house and yet left the door open because she intended to return."

Loki was quite taken aback at this news, and Eir smiled mirthlessly. "I will not ask how it came to pass that Sigyn stumbled upon a door to the realm of the spirit and found the will and means to leave her body. But if she does not return soon I fear that the door she left open will shut itself, and she will never awaken."

"How does one enter the realm of the spirit?" Loki asked, his curiosity seeming for its own sake. He understood now what realm he and Sigyn had been in, when they were bound. Perhaps the violent shudderings against his senses that he felt – the wind, and endless unsettling – were because they were not taken to that realm of their own will. Perhaps that was why Sigyn's conscious felt pain, because it would not cease its restless shifting.

"Easily, if one put their will to it," Eir responded, seeing to it that her medicines and salves were arranged satisfactorily, before she turned to the empty shell that housed Sigyn's spirit. She looked at it fondly, as a sad mother would of a child who slept with troubled dreams. "It requires a great resolve and some concentration. I have noticed that those who have greater affinity to the arts my lord is a student of find it nigh effortless to slip in and out of that realm. Sigyn's training has not been so complete as yours in those arts. Though her skill is a valuable asset to us here in these halls, it is still lacking, and it surprises me that she could have reached a higher plane upon which souls walk."

The pieces clicked together and Loki had now everything he needed to understand. "Thank you, Eir," he smiled, looking upon Sigyn's form in the bed. Her features were not so sharp as an aristocrat's were wont to be. The lines of her jaw, the short, rounded edge of her narrow nose. Everything about her face was soft, rounded, sweet. It was as if she were simply sleeping. Loki was considering this woman so intently that he did not notice Eir's gaze, nor that he was allowing himself a brief lapse enough to let slip that he thought her pleasing to look at. When he pulled himself out of thought, he found himself alone in the healing room. Eir had closed the door on her way out.

Loki pulled a chair over the bedside and sat. The connection they had shared while she was out of her body was still there. He felt it tugging at his mind. But with her not there to answer, it was as if the bind that held them both trailed from him to...nowhere. As if it stretched into a fog he could not see past. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to fish you out, won't I?" he sighed in irritation. "This wasn't the plan, Sigyn."

Loki leaned back in the chair and took a deep, calming breath as he closed his eyes. Resolve. Concentration. Loki cleared the palette of his mind and focused. He felt himself beginning to drift, as if he were walking out of his body. He he could see himself, as he fell into the grasp of that which pulled him. He plunged, as into a dark pool, an abyss that swirled about him. He let go a little more and let himself sink. He closed his eyes, then opened them. He found himself upon an embankment, looking toward the great expanse of an endless sea. He looked down, pleased to see at least a physical manifestation of himself dressed in one of his more relaxed tunic and trousers, even if they were wet. He supposed the abyss he plunged into was the sea he saw lapping at the embankment.

Rising with a sigh and smoothing out his shirt as if to dry it, Loki straightened and looked about him. The shoreline was small, and he could see a small woodland nearby. Something tugged at him, and he looked down again at his hand. Rippling in and out of existence on his arm was the soul bind and the chain it was attached to. He sighed in resigned exasperation and followed the chain into the woods.

It was quiet, when he stepped into the lush treeline. A sense of serenity and near contentment wrapped around him as he continued further in. The trees were tall, having grown many centuries in that place, and were still buzzing with the pulse of life. There were no birds, no wild beasts calling to each other. As Loki continued to walk, the eerie silence caressed him, inviting him further in. He paused, suddenly feeling watched. He turned toward where he thought the presence was. A head ducked back behind a tree a little too late, long golden strands flashing behind. He almost snorted. What made her think she could hide from him?

The curious eyes reappeared from behind the tree trunk, and something struck him as odd. The eyes, the face were Sigyn's but there was something about this curious creature who wore a plain gown the color of a pale, rainy sky that seemed different. He beckoned to the girl. "Come out, I won't hurt you," he replied gently, for it seemed she would run from him any minute.

She seemed strangely childlike and shy. He never remembered Sigyn being such an introvert. As she came closer, her eyes were downcast almost in fear, and by what strange light there was to see, he could tell tear tracks down her face.

"Who are you?" Loki felt it right to ask. There was just enough of a prickle at his senses that something was wrong here.

"I am Meekness," she replied after a pause. He blinked. "Or, Timidity. Or Modesty. Whichever you would care to call me."

"Why are you crying?" he asked, a strange wondering taking hold of him.

"I...I am lost," Meekness sighed shakily, still hiccuping from her weeping.

An investigative concern washed over him. "Were you the one asking for help?"

"You felt the storm too? That's when I lost her."

"Who is she?"

"The other one. The one who takes care of me," she replied as a small child lost in city streets to one who would take her back.

"Walk with me, and let us find her. I promise that you will not come to harm," he smiled, offering his arm. Her build seemed sickeningly small, more slender than her physical form. Meekness...this couldn't really be Sigyn. Perhaps this was a side of her? A characteristic he'd never paid attention to?

"Thank you," she smiled weakly. "You're very kind."

"I'm not," he frowned as the words left his lips. It was as if he couldn't control them, keep them from coming out. "Not really."

"What is your name?"

"I am Loki. I'm looking for someone too. I thought you would be her."

An amused giggle. "Nobody looks for me. I'm not as important as she is."

The dawning of a realization cracked through him as he looked at the 'little girl Sigyn'. This was her soul. He was walking with a personification of Sigyn. Or rather, _one_ of them. He wondered who he would meet of her spirit that had been shattered on impact of the oath. A shiver ran up his form, and excitement exploded behind his eyes. _How many,_ he wondered. Another thought struck him, as he pondered these things and their dizzying implications. _Important as who?_

"There you are!" another melody of a personification. A second manifestation of Sigyn hurried toward them. This one seemed bolder, and the outline of her form sharper. It seemed taller than the one that walked next to him, healthier and shapely. Meekness's face lit up with relieved recognition and ran toward the other attribute of Sigyn's soul who wore a slightly finer gown of cerulean that shimmered.

Loki looked on and frowned when Modesty's smile disappeared the moment the other persona laid a hand upon her arm, gripping it firmer than he would have liked. The one in blue scolded Modesty as a mother would a child.

"What did I tell you?" the figure berated. "Do not ever leave me again. He found you first, when I would have rather him met me, or at least both of us together."

"Sigyn," he breathed, again not being able to help himself. They both turned toward him, the taller one frustrated, trying to put forward a better impression, and Modesty shrinking behind her.

"I am Fidelity," the bolder persona said. "Forgive me, my lord, it was my fault she was lost. We were quarreling before the storm and were separated."

Loki nodded, his hands shifting to clasp behind his back. "You know me, then?"

Fidelity nodded while Modesty looked on in curiosity still. "Then you must be the one I am looking for," he continued. "Sigyn must awaken."

The two manifestations looked at each other as if conferencing with themselves silently. Fidelity seemed to be the more commanding of the two, and it made Loki so curious as to near itching.

"We will serve," Fidelity answered at length. She turned to the ever quiet Modesty. "Come, so that we will not be separated again."

The two embraced and Loki was fascinated to watch them knit themselves together and become a single form. As it turned toward him, he could see the joining stitches. Most of the face was Fidelity, while a single eye was the gentle, childlike curiosity of Meekness. It was as if they were patchwork sewn together, and the sight was not as revolting as one might think; rather, it was endearing. It was Sigyn gathering herself up to go to him, and he saw the glimmer of the chain shackled to her wrist before it disappeared.

He held out his hand. She did not move to take it, and seemed to think in her hesitation. A light breeze seemed to blow through the little woodland, carrying on it a whispered laughter that made her close her eyes and cover her ears with a shudder. It set Loki on edge and he pulled roughly on the chain, forcing her to come to him. The moment she was in his arms was the moment he awoke out of his trance, back in his physical body.

She started, having been pulled out of her sleep. Loki blinked his eyes and rubbed away the last tendrils of the spirit dream. They turned to each other and he smiled almost snidely, looking down his nose as a man accomplished.

"Your Highness?" asked Sigyn, confused. "What...happened?"

"I brought you back," he answered simply. Her thoughts brushed against his, groping and disoriented. It was not of her own accord, the bending of her will toward him that he felt she did so. It was as if she was not aware how loud she was being when thinking to herself.

"Back," she finally spoke, sitting up in the bed. "From where?"

Fascinating. She didn't know? Loki tilted his head as he peered at her, his brow furrowed. He wondered what she remembered. She looked up at him in confusion. "What?" she asked, as if he had asked Sigyn a question she wanted repeated.

He blinked. She was acting strangely, and it worried him. He wondered if the separating of her entities had caused a rift in her mind.

"Stop it!" Sigyn snapped, holding her head in her hands. Loki gaped. "You're hurting my head with your curiosity."

Irritation and almost a sleepy confusion bumped at his own consciousness. The way she was looking at him was...wait.

"Sigyn," he began quietly, slowly realizing what was happening. "Can you hear my thoughts?"

Awareness slowly crept over her features and he felt as if she'd been unknowingly knocking at the door of his mind and suddenly stopped when she caught herself at it. Tentatively she reached out to him, turning her thought to him. There was a very pregnant pause.

"Can you hear mine?" she murmured so quietly he nearly had to strain to hear. He turned his attention toward her and brushed at her. He saw her – felt her – flinch back.

"I rather sense the direction your mood is, like a pathway. I don't know what you are thinking, as if we could have a conversation without words, no. But emotions and feelings blow through you like the wind, and my sense of it is as a weather vane," he at last responded.

A dark sense of satisfaction resounded through him as her depression and entrapment settled around her like the keening of a new widow. Loki steepled his fingers together as he relaxed into the chair. It went both ways, it seemed, her wish for honesty. She may not have been able to hide her emotions very well to begin with, and now her own thoughts were laid bare to him as if he had stripped away the blankets from the bed of her solace. The depth of her emotion against his mind was greater than the mere sad realization etched upon her face.

It was to Loki's great glee to know that she did try to school her features, then. Now that he understood the extent of every emotion she felt that he had not guessed before, it was as if she were wholly at his mercy and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. He felt her mind against his, almost trying to grip at him in warning. He looked at her cautiously and then let a full out devious smile jump onto his face.

"Do control yourself, Sigyn," he punctuated her name with false importance. "You'll have to learn how to curb the passions of your feeling. It wouldn't do to disrespect your future king, even with your thoughts."

"Look to your own temperament," Sigyn spat venomously. The pain of the force she was emoting was almost delicious, the acidity rolling into him like a wave of hate. Loki tisked, shaking his head, and he knew that she felt his amusement.

"You're such a beast," she bared the fangs of her soul. Ineffectively. It was a stroke to his vanity, instead.

"Yes," he purred charmingly, as if she had just called him the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He drank in her repulsion. "I know."

And with that, he rose and departed, closing the door behind him. He suddenly wanted to test his boundaries, the strength of their connection. Could he feel her emotions and not be there to see the satisfaction of his good work? He was filled with inexplicable delight as he leaned on the door frame, so much so that he put a finger to his mouth and set his teeth to the appendage to keep from fairly squealing in giddiness. Loki was suddenly reminded of a song he heard on Midgard and instantly fell in love with when it was first released and was thankful of the songwriter's birth. He walked down the hall, dancing with himself like a madman, preening and congratulating himself.

"It's so easy when I'm evil," he sang, putting a hand to his chest, the other in the air as he twirled himself, his boots tapping against the floor with the melody in his head. "This is the life for me, the devils tip their hats to me..."

* * *

Sigyn's recovery and the supposed cause of her sudden fainting was the talk of every washerwoman in Asgard. It was said that her ceaseless service to the king drove her to exhaustion and that she'd passed out while attending him. Lady Sigyn was well known in the courts of the Aesir for her tenacious loyalty to the royal family, and so it came as a rippling shock when it was rumored she had been released from service.

During that time, Loki had taken to studying the bond and gleefully tormenting the servant of his father. He learned that she indeed remembered nothing after the force that bound them together took hold of her. His observances became maniacal, fed by the madness of him wishing her always to know that he hated her. Hated that she was tied to him, hated that he could always feel her. At every waking moment, whether she was near him or not, she could feel the pulse of his abhorrence. The throb of his rancor followed her every where she went, whether she worked to appease him or no. Sigyn was fighting a losing battle to keep her sanity and was distracted in her attempt to settle her own affairs in her home when he came to visit one day.

"Sigyn," Loki lilted, drawing out her name in a sing-song voice as he came traipsing through the estate she held in Asgard. "Where are you?"

He opened the door to her study and found her. She was at a side table with her back to him, her movements jerky and erratic as she poured herself a glass of water from the decanter. His wolfish grin disappeared when she turned and it was as if the barrier between her mind and body had crumbled significantly. He could see Fidelity and Meekness in her tired eyes and the winds of her emotion were like a breeze. He could feel defeat, a soft wish to die and the slow creep of madness take hold of her mind.

"I am here, my lord," she replied. "At your service. Always at your service, the faithful one. Ever faithful Sigyn."

Sobriety struck him and Loki watched her unravel before his eyes. She started laughing. It was an empty sound, hollow as the madness was taking more of a hold. "Ever faithful Sigyn," she said again, as if it were the punchline of a well known joke. "Like a hunting hound or a trained falcon."

Loki felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as she suddenly broke the tumbler she had been drinking from, shards of glass glittering to the floor. There were some digging into her palm as she raised her fist, rivulets of fresh blood dripping. Loki leaped forward and took hold of her wrist. Immediately upon physical contact, he was assaulted by voices in his head.

_-can't stand me, why did I agree to help him? _

_I can't take it anymore! Please, mercy, let me die-_

It was her voice, a jumble of incoherent thoughts strung together in babble. He looked in her eyes, tears already spilling out from her sapphire orbs, and sobs tearing from her throat as her entire frame convulsed.

_Please, please please. Let go, let me do it. It won't hurt so bad..._

Loki was jarred at the fact he could actually hear what she was thinking. Why couldn't he hear it before?

_Let me go, leave me alone. Just let go!_

Loki was immediately seized with remorse. What could he do now to bring her back from the edge?

_Be merciful in your dealings with me. I've yet to even begin to help you, and you've set yourself upon me like a wolf. What have I done to incur such wrath? Please, whatever I've done. I won't do it anymore._

The voice of Meekness in his ear, pleading. Loki blinked. Her spirit was crying out to him, and he could hear her thoughts!

_Sigyn, I..._

Her trembling grew less and the hand that held the shards of her cup slackened in his grip. Her tears and blood still flowed freely. _You're just sorry I'm crying. You always hate when women cried. You __aren't really sorry__. _

It came as a blow from Mjolnir to his stomach, and it made him sick. Telepathy was apparently a thing only shared when they physically touched each other, and the brushing of their psyches were like vague whisperings of what they really thought. Sigyn had never struck him as a woman who felt so passionately about anything. He, like so many others, saw her as the obedient servant to his mother, studious as her apprentice in magic, dependable as a healer under Eir. She did everything that was expected of her, never spoke out of turn or raised her voice, like a proper noblewoman.

Loki suddenly released her and felt like he was falling backward, tumbling into a darkness. The sensation of falling and landing on his back startled him and he found himself back in the spirit plane. When his lungs could finally breathe air, he sat up and saw Fidelity and Meekness nearby, separated into their own entities again. He rose and turned to them.

"You do not yet understand this realm, yet you play with it as you would a new toy," Fidelity whispered. Her face was beaten and bruised, shreds of skin and burns lacing over her bare arms. Meekness was limp at her feet, her hair ragged and obscuring her face from him. She seemed...tortured within centimeters of her limit.

"What happened here?" he asked. Shrieking laughter carried on the wind, stronger and more hideous than what he had heard before.

"You walk in the world of spirits. It is not just those who would refine their art and attune themselves better to their souls who are here," Fidelity replied. "There are demons, too."

"Who did this?" Loki seethed quietly, the slow burn of indignation running through him. He reached out toward Meekness and she recoiled from him violently. Her hair shifted and he saw that her mouth was bleeding, her eyes blackened, and the skin of her neck horribly twisted by the gashes of knives and rope.

"A demon," Fidelity answered. "It tore us apart forcibly, took hold of her and...threw her down...he was merciless and I wrestled with him many days."

Cold. He felt colder than when he had first discovered he was of Jotun blood. So cold it burned him. "What demon?"

"The one called Hate."

The weight of what was happening was beginning to beat through him. The days he had used to torment Sigyn...what it was actually doing to her...what he had done. He felt he was going to vomit.

"This little woodland is our private place. Each spirit has their own. Yours has become closer in proximity because of our promise, and the boundaries between sanctuaries have been forcibly thrown down. You broke our gates. You let him in. We already had troubles of our own, and you let him in."

Fidelity's voice carried no malice, but the hammering of her cadence bore down into his skull. Her gaze was hard as iron as she willed Loki to be silent and still. But her focus changed to place itself on something behind him.

"Begone from this place. We've had enough," she commanded, though her tone was shaky.

An eyeless, bipedal beast with a dripping maw was smiling lasciviously as if it had found a new meal. Loki tensed and tried to turn toward it and get a fuller view when he felt the three fingered grip relentless on his head. Roots upon the ends of fingers bore down and grew with an alarming voracity.

"Who are you," Loki ground out, willing everything of himself to resist.

"Fear," it drawled as the vines snaked down to his neck, wrapping around his throat. Loki began to bark a laugh that ended up rasping horribly. He could see Fidelity's apprehension and knew she thought him mad.

"So, you're the demon Fear," Loki chortled. "Did you come here with Hate? Did you lay waste to Fidelity and Meekness?"

The beast laughed, tightening its grip. Fidelity suddenly held out a battered arm, wincing in the pain it caused her.

"He is not yours to contend with. This man is in the province of Hate. You commune with him, but this soul has not been given to you. Leave him be."

Loki felt the vines recede, unwinding from his form and he gasped for air. The demon was displeased, but remembered the consequences of crossing with his brother Hate. It groaned its discontent but went on its way, stomping between the trees.

"Thank you," Loki breathed, rubbing his throat, having fallen to his knees after they buckled. He had been truly gripped by fear and he would not walk away unchanged by the knowledge of what it really was.

"You allowed the battering of Meekness," Fidelity said. "I cannot trust you. You've done this to other souls, knowing full well what you were doing. But, you did not yet have eyes to see what truly was."

Silence. Fidelity frowned.

"We two are all you know of this soul. I have yet to lend my aid. You have yet to meet her and you would maim us with your treachery."

His senses prickled. Her? So there were more? "How would you help me? What must I do?" he choked.

Fidelity almost looked like an eternal judge through the blood on her face."Make amends. I can only be moved to call upon her when Meekness is whole, and feels at ease. You have much work to do, much to repair and learn. This is no game you can cheat and win, Trickster King."

* * *

Okay so that got really intense, really fast. A lot of information here. I really need feedback. Please, for the love of all that is holy, don't simply put me on your alerts or favorite list. I need to know what you think. Also, the song Loki was singing as he danced down the hallway was by Voltaire, called "When you're Evil".


End file.
